As if I was talking to someone I met for the first time, I continued to tell my own story.
"It's pathetic, right? Well, this is who I am... Yoo Joonghyuk, who are you?"
They all hated the 'Secretive Plotter'. However, that hatred was born out from the deep-seated yearning they all held.
(No one treasured 'Yoo Joonghyuk' as much as them in any of the universes out there.)
- I wish to see the novel’s epilogue.
At the time, the Kim Dokja who said these words seemed very lonely. She didn’t know what he meant at the time but now she felt like she knew a bit. Now one thing was clear.
When the ‘epilogue’ came, Kim Dokja wouldn’t be alone.
The hand that experienced thousands regressions tightly grabbed hold onto Kim Dokja's collars - as if to yank out the oldest memories from within.
"It's time to go back, Kim Dokja."
I felt somewhat uneasy as I had a conversation with Yoo Joonghyuk. His fists were clenched tightly like he was angry. I suspected that he might have anger control issues these days.
The gaps in the black print. My own little snow garden lay in between the letters. This space, which was too small for someone to go into, was a perfect place for a child who liked to hide.
In it, I became a hero. I had adventures, loved and dreamt. Thus, I read and read again.
As for its protagonist, it was just a pretty boy devoid of personality that seemingly wasted all of his available skill points on his outer appearance.
There were some people who, despite wishing to be saved, couldn't bring themselves to ask others to save them.
Han Sooyoung always wanted to write certain sentences for people like that. To write sentences for those people who couldn't say or write anything.
I... wanted to move. I wanted to wipe her tears away. I wanted to kneel down and hug her, before telling her that, her wishes were...
...Also mine, too.
This guy, he never once missed writing a comment on all those thousands of chapters. And every single one contained understanding and love for the world created by this author.
(Han Sooyoung was envious of that.)
"Dokja-ssi, why do you think this world is fiction?"
Yoo Sangah didn't know me. What was 'fiction' to me? What did this world mean to me? I couldn't explain or describe it.